The Power Called Geass
by Purin-chan
Summary: The power called Geass is one that makes people lonely, but what if loneliness is not the only effect? Immortality must come with a price. Post-R2.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Thank you for clicking on my story! This is the very first Code Geass fanfiction I have written (I've been writing Slayers for the past 9 years or so), so if characters seem out of character…well that's why. Please bear with me as I develop a better grasp of the characters.

This story is based on the anime, seasons 1 and 2, so if you haven't finished it yet, there are some spoilers! It also assumes that Lelouch _does not_ die at the end of R2, but is instead given the Code, and thus has achieved Code Geass. This means that he and C.C. are going on, living as "immortals." It's also been a good year or two since I'd watched the anime, though I'm going through a refresher right now. So if there are any discrepancies, I'll have to apologize for those as well.

Comments and criticism are appreciated! Though please be gentle :3.

* * *

The Power Called Geass

_Bang_.

With a soft thud, the fresh corpse fell to the ground, pooled in the scarlet hue of life. The neighboring birds flew for the skies, and the winds shifted direction, heading west toward the crepuscular glow. The evening silence took its throne once again as the echoes of the gunshot faded away, and like a fallen tree in the woods, the deed had been carried out with no one to bear witness—no one to bear truth.

No one, except the one whose entire existence was falsehood.

He lowered his weapon, allowing his arm to rest for a moment as the burden of taking someone else's life added weight to his shoulders. Then he swayed, straightened himself, and lifted the cold metal to his head, pressing it against his temple as his eyelids slid down, and he saw darkness from within. His finger tightened on the trigger, and his breath caught in his throat. Then he exhaled slowly, lowered the gun, slid the safety back into place, and opened his eyes.

The world was an unchanged place. That much was clear.

"Is this all I am capable of?" he asked, kneeling down at the side of the dead man before him. An angry red flashed through his eyes as he buried his knuckles into the shirt of the man and yanked him, rolling him over so his frozen eyes stared up into the sky. The young, angry man took a hold of the dead man's collar with one hand as the other lifted the gun behind him. Then he brought the tool down, and heard the satisfying crack of a bone breaking as the gun collided with the dead man's nose. "Is this the limit?" he shouted at himself, bringing the gun down again and again as red began to fly up at his eyes.

"Lelouch."

He stopped his assault on the corpse, and the strength in his fingers immediately weakened. He let go of the man, hesitated for a moment, then turned his head slightly in the direction of the voice. "I thought I told you not to call me by that name anymore, C.C."

"But it is your name, is it not? No matter how much you desire it, you can never separate yourself from who you are."

Shadows occluded his face as he frowned. "And what of yourself? Haven't you cast away your name once as well?"

"True," she answered. He heard the sound of her footsteps crunching through the leaves on the ground as she approached. "But no matter what you may call me, I am still me, as you are you, Lelouch."

A wicked laugh escaped his lips as he stepped forward, catching the flesh of her neck with firm fingers. But she continued to stare at him apathetically, offering no words as he glared down at her, fury clouding his eyes. He tightened his grip, causing her to cough slightly. The sound of it seemed to hit him, for in a moment he blinked and released her, looking as though he had just done the unthinkable, and was frightened by his own power. He glanced down at the blood-stained gun in his hands, and then, as though disgusted, flung it away from him.

She massaged her own neck and coughed a little before speaking. "Are you better now?"

He averted his eyes, suddenly too ashamed to look at her. When it was clear he wasn't about to say anything, she continued, "So that makes this the fourth one?"

"Yes," he replied, voice deep with regret.

"Is this the last?"

He remained silent.

"It won't bring her back, no matter how many you kill."

"I know that!" he replied hotly. Then he repeated it, a little softer, as though reminding himself, "I know that."

C.C. watched him quietly as he pressed the palm of his hand to his face, then pulled his fingers roughly through his hair. There were tiny droplets of water down the side of his head, whether from tears or from sweat she could not tell. As they fell from him and sank into the ground, she heard the dampened chime of the life she had almost forgotten.

She walked up to his back, turned around, and leaned gently against him. "It hurts, doesn't it?" she asked, and felt him push against her slightly. Then she reached behind her, trailed her fingers down the length of his arm, and slid her fingers in between his.

He gripped her hand tightly. "What would you know of hurt, heartless witch?"

She stifled a laugh and leaned against his back. "You're still just a child."

"What does that make you?"

"Who knows?"

"Witch."

She smirked a bit and rested her head against the curve of his shoulder. He stiffened, so she reached up and traced her fingers along his arm, and he reluctantly gave in to her touch. She closed her eyes and thought she heard the sound of quiet sobbing.

"He…to Nunally…he did!" he began, breathing heavily.

"I know," she answered, and touched his other hand. He grabbed it tightly, nearly crushing her fingers as his arm shook with rage. She merely stared up at the blood-ridden hue of the sky. Indeed, the world looked like a darker place without his sister.

The news had reached them ten years ago—forty-seven years after the death of the Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia. It had immediately set off a spark inside of him that C.C. hadn't witnessed since the days of the war. She had caught a glimpse of it then, but it was much more evident now. He had murdered the first one for revenge, yes, but the two after that had been innocent. But anytime they walked past someone with silvery hair, or someone with a similar brown trenchcoat, it appeared again in his eyes—the animosity, the rage, the sorrow. And if it was strong enough—if it overpowered him—he would kill them.

She looked down at the corpse—studied the broken jaw, the bloody stump that once was his nose, the gray, cloudy eyes that stared blankly into the sky. She closed her eyes for a moment before studying the dead man's face again, and agreed that he did look fairly much like the man who was responsible for Nunally's death. Enough, that is, to reawaken Lelouch.

Then she began, "I said it before. The power called Geass is one that makes people lonely."

"Yes," he agreed. "But you forgot to mention insane."

"You aren't insane, Lelouch."

He laughed, uninhibited, and the sound made her gut churn.

"Where have you been for the last ten years?" he demanded of her, suddenly angry again.

She cast her eyes down at the ground. "At your side."

They were silent for a while, and C.C. wondered if the final straw had finally been pulled, and if he had finally lost it entirely. But then he slumped to the ground, and she made a little sound as she stumbled a bit, then regained her balance. She rubbed her arm in discomfort before she knelt down to look him in the face. The blood of the dead man was already starting to cake in the crevices of his eyes, and it was smeared all over his neck and shirt, making the fabric stiff. She unbuttoned his white shirt and removed it for him, then took a clean spot and began wiping the stains off his face.

As she worked away, his eyes slowly wandered from empty space to her, and when she realized, she stopped to stare back at him. "What is it?" she asked.

"I don't understand how you managed to stay sane," he grumbled, as though dazed.

She didn't respond, and instead dropped the shirt to the ground as she slipped his arm around her shoulders and helped him off the ground. With enough goading, she eventually got him to move his feet, and they wandered in the direction of the wind. Perhaps it would provide them with the guidance they were looking for.


	2. Chapter 1

**AN**: Just to clear some things up, the first chapter was more of a prologue—so we're skipping ahead in time a bit to the actual story. Thanks to my Riku for beta-reading this fanfic ^_^. I also can't decide on a permanent title for this fic lol. Any suggestions?

* * *

The Will of Geass – Chapter One

How many years had it been? More than a century? More than two? How long had he spent trying to find the one responsible for Her death, only to find clues leading to holes and dead ends? There was never any revenge, never any retribution, and now there was no longer anyone who even remembered her name.

He stopped on the road to watch the public broadcast. The young, blonde telecaster read actively through her news—an earthquake in the land of the former Chinese federation, the aftermath of a hurricane off the coast of former Area 6, and the grand opening of a new political conference center in former Area 11. Those cursed names had long been forgotten. After the world was united under the name of peace, everyone shared the same land, the same ideals, and even spoke the same language. The broadcast itself was conveyed using this new tongue, and shown across the world. Some called it liberation, others called it unification, and the final lot called it domination.

"Interested in the affairs of the world?"

Lelouch blinked and turned to his companion. "Of course not," he replied with a small laugh. "This world has long since lost meaning to me."

"Is that so?" she murmured as her golden eyes wandered back to the television screen. "There's no shame in it. This is the world you created, after all."

"Ah," he agreed, acknowledging her words as his countenance fell. A warm breeze blew past them then, ruffling the hem of her skirt and threatening to blow the hat off of Lelouch's head. He reached up to catch it, and as he did so, asked, "C.C., was there any purpose to what I did?"

She folded her hands behind her back. "What do you mean?"

He craned his neck to look up at the sky. "This world has already forgotten about the Black Knights, about Britannia, and about Nunally." He paused. "Soon, they may even forget about the Zero Requiem."

She turned to him slightly. "Lelouch-"

"Sir."

Lelouch glanced down at the boy before him and was immediately seized by the urge to kill. The boy was no older than seven years of age, had a weakly appearance, and skin as pale as a ghost. His tousled gray hair framed his childish face and shadowed his eyes of violet hue. He clung to a ragged teddy bear, but atop the head of the doll was a heart-shaped pendant, strung from a chain around the boy's neck and colored in light lavender with a large gold clover on its face.

He was the spitting image of Lelouch's fake brother, Rolo.

C.C. took one glance at the boy and reached out to grab Lelouch's trembling arm. She didn't need to see his face to know that his mask was breaking. "Calm down. It's not him," she whispered in his ear, but Lelouch was already well immersed in his delusions. In his mind, he reached out and grabbed the boy's neck, snapping it with a _pop_. The boy would stumble over his own body, flailing limbs like a chicken. A grin broke out on Lelouch's face.

"Sir," the boy repeated. "Are you the Devil?"

The words seemed to break Lelouch out of his trance, and he averted his eyes. "That is-"

"Cole!"

Lelouch's eyes widened as another ghost from his past came running down the road. "Shirley!" he gasped, feeling the burn of his suddenly dry throat.

She ran up to them and collapsed, fatigued, onto her knees. As she fought to catch her breath, Lelouch pondered frantically whether he should run, or whether he should kill them and run. But before he could come to an answer, 'Shirley' rose to her feet and smiled at him, and he felt an old, familiar dfeeling put his anxious heart at peace.

"Thank you for finding my son," she said as she offered a sweet smile. Then she looked sternly at her son and continued, "Hey, you should thank the kind man, too."

The boy looked apathetically from his mother to Lelouch. With lips slightly parted, he murmured, "Devil."

The boy's mother flushed a bright red and grabbed her son's hand. To Lelouch, she laughed nervously and said, "I'm sorry. Cole says weird things sometimes."

"No. That's no problem," Lelouch answered, still staring in disbelief.

The woman smiled again. "Can I ask your name?"

Lelouch tensed again. Then he felt C.C. grip his arm reassuredly as she walked forward. "My name is C.C. This is Lelouch. And you are?"

"Crystal," the woman answered, and C.C. felt Lelouch's muscles loosen under the touch of her fingers. "And you've met Cole already," she said as she ran her hand through her son's hair. Then, a moment later, her eyes lit up. "Hey, why don't you come over for some tea? My house isn't far from here, and I'd like to show my appreciation for finding my son."

"Um."

"Um, I really don't think that's necessary," Lelouch interrupted, stumbling over his words. It had been a long time since he had spoken to anyone aside from C.C., and so he wasn't as proficient at speaking the new language as he should have been. All the people at his age were born in the new generation that had been brought up speaking the ubiquitous tongue. He would have to adapt soon, in order to keep his guise effective.

Crystal pouted visibly, then reached out and grabbed Lelouch's other arm. "It's okay, isn't it?" she whined as she pulled him and Cole along. C.C. released his arm and stared after them for a moment before sighing. Not only did this human look just like the girl, she also behaved like her. That in itself was dangerous. They couldn't risk staying for long.

o o o o o

"Um, would you like some help in there?" Lelouch asked.

"Nope, I'm doing just fine-waah!"

Lelouch winced as he heard a loud thud, followed by the sounds of glasses shattering, metal clanging, and the sloshing of liquid everywhere. After the echo faded away, he heard a soft "ouch."

He sighed and walked into the kitchen. Crystal was nursing her scalded arm by running it under cold water in the sink. There was broken glass all over the floor, spilled liquid, and a pot layinglying on its side. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied with a cheery grin, though the redness on her arm seemed to say otherwise. Lelouch picked up a towel and knelt down to clean up the shards of glass, to which she hotly protested, "No, please don't! I'll clean that up in a second."

"You," he began seriously, leaning over to stop her before she could put her feet victim to the floor. "Take care of yourself first."

Crystal turned her eyes away abashedly. "Okay."

Lelouch cleaned up the shards of glass and picked up the pot, then twisted the towel dry and returned to the floor to clean up the spilled liquid. As he did so, he realized it didn't smell anything like tea. In fact, it smelled a little more like soup.

"Were you trying to cook?" he asked her.

"Oh! Maybe a little."

He put the towel in the sink, and she thanked him as she dried her arm off and went to retrieve the first aid kit from a cabinet. As she fiddled with the ointment, Lelouch strode over and took it from her, and proceeded to apply first aid to her burn.

"Thank you," she whispered shyly.

"Why didn't you just use the automated cooking system?" he asked. "No one in this day and age cooks by hand anymore."

"That won't do!" she protested, and he glanced up at her. "Er, I mean…a meal cooked by hand tastes better than a meal made by machine, doesn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "They taste the same, don't they?"

She shook her head furiously. "No no no! Because a machine can't imitate the essential ingredient in cooking! Love!"

Lelouch swallowed painfully. He finished putting ointment on her arm and turned away so she couldn't see his eyes. "That would require a heart, wouldn't it?"

"Of course," she answered.

"I lost mine a long time ago."

There was silence for a while, and then he heard her clamor up from her chair. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed, and ran to his side. He glanced down at what she was looking at, and sure enough, his hand was bleeding. He had probably been careless with the glass earlier.

"It's just a small cut," he said. It would likely heal in less than an hour.

"But still!" she complained, and reached for a band-aid. Lelouch remained quiet as she applied it to the side of his hand. It had been a long time since someone had worried over such a minor wound. He felt a little touched by her compassion, and a little more aware of the monster he was.

"Take care of yourself first," she said, looking into his eyes. "Weren't you the one who said that?"

He stared back at her for a moment before his lips curved slowly into a smile. "Yeah," he agreed, "You're right."

She grinned back at him. "Alright!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Then, would you mind helping me cook?"

"Of course."

o o o o o

C.C. watched quietly as Lelouch and Crystal chatted like old friends over dinner, and even after dinner. When Crystal showed them to their rooms for the evening (after a hastily accepted invitation), C.C. thought the absurdity would finally settle down, but Crystal had the audacity to sneak into Lelouch's room for another conversation. She could hear it through the wall.

C.C. slipped out of her clothes, leaving only her undergarments on, pulled herself up onto her bed, and leaned her back against the wall that separated them. It had been a long time since she and Lelouch had spoken to anyone other than themselves. She had suspected as much, but it was clear now that the isolation had been getting to him. It wasn't his fault, though. She had foolishly formed bonds with other people in the first few centuries of her life as well. But she had also quickly learned that those bonds were short-lived. People dropped like flies. Their lives lasted for only a fraction of the life she had. And the worst part of it all was that it was much easier to forget about a lost friendship than it was to make one, and so it became meaningless.

But not anymore.

She didn't like to admit it, but having Lelouch around was like a breath of fresh air in the stagnant oasis of her time. When someone didn't die to time, disease, or disaster, it was easy to get attached. She found herself feeling things she hadn't felt in a long time—simple emotions that had long been bottled up and thrown out to sea, only to wash back up on her lonely beach. She couldn't really say she loved him (it would certainly be dangerous if she ever did _fall_ in love with him), but he had revived her desire to live, and for the first time in centuries, C.C. actually cared about tomorrow.

She smirked and pulled her knees to her chest, but as she did so, she suddenly felt a wave of energy. She gasped as her Code bathed the room in red. _Impossible!_

Apparently Lelouch was aware of what was going on, for she heard her name shouted from the other room. The room began to swirl, up became down, and C.C. no longer had the strength to right herself. As she fell, she heard the sound of the door slamming open and felt the warmth of his embrace as he caught her. She closed her eyes, waited for the effect to subside, and slowly opened them again.

"Are you okay?" Lelouch asked, and she wondered if he was aware of how desperate he sounded.

"Yeah," she responded quietly as she sat up. Her eyes wandered over to the door then, where Crystal was standing. As their eyes connected, Crystal retreated from view looking like an abandoned puppy. C.C. pressed her hand to her forehead. "There was a reaction."

"How is that possible?"

C.C. remained quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure. But it's gone now." She glanced at him, heard his shaky, heavy sigh, and smirked. "Strange of you to be so worried."

He scoffed at her. The usual self-centered expression was back. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Despite his words, he still helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She laughed at him, to which he glanced at her briefly then turned away. "Oh. Are we still shy when I'm not wearing anything?" she teased.

"That's not it. You'll catch cold like that."

"You _are_ aware that neither of us could ever catch cold."

He didn't respond. Instead, he looked down at his hand and ripped the bandage off, tossing it in the trash by the doorway and closing the door behind him as he left. Then he reached down and touched the healed flesh, as though it still hurt.


End file.
